hooded but no longer hiding
give it a minute. let it settle into your brain. the sparkles of a first snow, the skids of first steps in the glistening white. a privilege of first come, first serve to the white world of winter. no one stirs at the hours i must, the stampede is still fast asleep. before the plow, the shovel, the trouble i tread, sneaker clad, through the shimmers and glimmers. fresh fall for a fresh bruise, as if God looked down and new this swollen soul needed a good ice pack.
the still and the quiet still intact, flakes flounder through the sky at a the flowing pace of feathers. no tracks, no flecks of dirt, just the cleanest blanket of white Chicago has ever seen. the newborn snow melts into a layer of glitter on my bundled body and i exhale a cloud of warmth. my bruised knuckles and blemished pride fade from mind, and my tense demeanor softens with each subtle squeak of snow beneath these scuffed chucks.